Stupid Spin-offs - Harry Potter Parodies
by Nullarius
Summary: These stories are graded T for Troll and rated U for Utterly Ridiculous. Go on and read if you want a laugh. Comments on the style and quality of writing would be most appreciated - as for the content, well, it's just off-the-planet...
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: this story is graded T for Troll and rated U for Utterly Ridiculous.**

There was a flash of colour, a sharp whirling of strange objects bent out of shape – an upside-down forest, a bicycle bent like melted rubber and the feeling of suffocating – and then Draco Malfoy landed in a dark little alley, the back of his shirt pulled roughly by his father Lucius Malfoy, who looked tight-lipped and hostile.

The stars were bright and scattered the sky, a thin crescent moon as tight-lipped and disapproving as Malfoy's father. They walked to join the other Death Eaters, standing with their backs like walls to the outside world and muttering quietly. As Malfoy tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, a shadowy hunk of a man spoke: "We've been waiting here for an hour," Fenir Greyback growled.

"Well, my impatient companion, the Dark Lord will keep us waiting for as long as he sees fit," a disproportionately high voice spoke, managing to be both harsh and grating on the ear and somehow musical at the same time.

"And as it happens, the most _loyal_ of us have already done their waiting. Years of it. In Azkaban," Bellatrix Lestrange gloated. Draco hated her. She ranged from sweet to downright frightening in an instant. "Waiting an hour is hardly a sacrifice for one so great."

"And then there's waiting _two minutes_ ," Greyback said loudly to Lucius. Bellatrix cackled.

"Where is the Dark Lord currently?" Lucius asked, gravely calm.

"Somewhere near the target's house… at the front. We're near the back. We may speak to him using the sonorous charm," Nott said.

"We may not _SPEAK_ to the Dark Lord! We must _AWAIT HIS ORDERS_ like he told us! CRU"-

"Calm down, Bella. Since when were you good at grammar?" Lucius pointed out. Before Bellatrix could finish him off for once and for all (which would have saved us a great deal of trouble throughout the next two books) Lucius exclaimed, "Here he is now!"

"I see a DRASTIC failure in the plan!" Bellatrix hissed, stepping up to Lucius's face. "The sonorous charm allows everybody for miles around to hear your voice!"

"Exactly, Bella," Nott pointed out. "We'll be able to hear Voldemort from here!"

"Do you realize what that means!? Every muggle, Hogwartian and Death Eater"-

"Shut up, Bella! He'll hear us!" Bellatrix sighed.

 _Idiots!_ thought Draco. "Excuse me! I agree with Bellatrix! If everyone can hear, then" –

"Did we ask for your opinion, _boy?_ " Fenrir growled. Draco shivered at his razor sharp teeth.

"Yes!" Malfoy tried to say, but because he was talking to Fenrir Greyback he actually said "Mimimner…" (because Draco is a spineless idjit, although admittedly one with a lot on his mind).

" _Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3…"_ Came Voldemort's voice, painfully loudly through the night air.

Bellatrix, flourishing her own wand, squealed, "My Lord, is that you!" just as loudly.

"Of course it's me! Now listen, my Death Eaters, to my Secret Plan!"

"Well, it won't be very secret, because"-

"Shut up, Bella! I have powers that can extend beyond my hiding place at 129 Karkaroff's Street…"

Draco silently facepalmed.

"Then the Dark Lord must have incredible power!" Bellatrix said admiringly, twirling a strand of her wayward black hair that looked like a portion of the night sky had been tortured and plonked on her head. Everyone else gave her weird looks.

"Yes, I do! A power you would have to endure if I hear _one more stupid word!"_ Voldemort's voice boomed out.

There was finally a blissful, _sensible,_ piece of silence.

"Good. My accordion playing would explode your heads as soon as it came into contact with your ears…" Yep, it's gone again.

"Are you sure that's working alright?" Draco whispered to Bellatrix. She just glared at him.

"Still, Dark Lord, there is a terrible problem with our plan!" Bellatrix wailed.

"Nonsense!" Voldemort exclaimed. "Now listen. The plan is that: we must attack Karkaroff's shack from the back, put him in a sack and conceal our tracks.

Draco, I know you are there. Repeat the plan."

"Ok, um… We attack a rat with a bat, then use Karkaroff's doormat to find our way back," Draco said, so shaken up by having Voldemort speak to him he couldn't actually say the problem with the plan or what he was even supposed to be saying.

"May you permit me to offer my services? I know where you can get twenty doormats, in the Room of Requirement… I could sell them to you for a really cheap price, you know, no GST…but wait, we have to use Karakaroff's _…_ " _I should make a black market business with stuff I've found in the Room of Requirement,_ Draco thought. _Can't believe nobody's thought of that before…_

"ARGHHHH!" Voldemort screamed, nearly deafening them. "I _SAID_ we _ATTACK_ Karakaroff's _SHACK_ from the _BACK, PUT HIM IN A SACK AND CONCEAL OUR TRACKS!"_

"My Lord, I see A TERRIBLE mistake!" Bellatrix wailed.

"Me too!" Voldemort said. "Karkaroff's heard us and run off!"

"THAT'S what I've been trying to tell you!" Bellatrix exclaimed, shaking her head.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Well, at least Voldemort can't kill us from over there," Draco said brightly.

Then the most awful sound Draco had ever heard screeched through the night air… accordion playing. Draco fell on the ground with his hands over his head while the others staggered around with their fingers in their ears.

"Alright! I take it back!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Funnily enough, I do not own the original story of Harry Potter or it's characters. Furthermore, Dumbledore's views and opinions on how loud telephones are supposed to be are entirely his own and do not necessarily reflect mine.**

It was late one hazy spring afternoon in Dumbledore's office. All was still: faint watery sunlight shone through the windows, softly swirling dust drifting absently in it's vague tide. Papers littered the old wooden desk, flopping under the sunlight as though hoping to get a very dusty, yellowing tan. A small jar of dried flowers with the faint smell of lavender also stood on the desk, along with a shiny, new, black telephone (a fairly old one with numbers in a circle and a separate receiver) and a small dish of old sherbet lemons.

In a glass cabinet in the corner, a silver spindly instrument ticked quietly, looking very much like a sculpture made from the wreckage of a very delicate car crash involving a clock, a barometer, and a steel spider. In the rest of the room, nothing stirred except Professor Dumbledore's quill, scratching quietly on the parchment.

Then the telephone rang. "Argh!" Dumbledore jumped a mile as the loud ring upset the perfectly quiet room, waking up all the portraits (who until then had been snoozing).

"What is that thing, Professor?" one of the portraits asked him aggravatedly, adjusting his lop-sided hat which had been slowly sliding off his head.

"It's a telephone!" Dumbledore had to shout over the noise. "I thought it might be useful to have one so the muggle parents can call their child's school. Technology like this won't normally work in Hogwarts, but a few trusty charms, and…" Dumbledore started pressing buttons, trying to work out how to answer it.

"Well, it's awfully loud and not compatible with a nice afternoon's rest," the portrait complained.

"Yes, yes, unfortunately… Hello, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said, holding the telephone upside down.

There were a few moments of crackling silence. "Hello? Hello? You know, I think they're gone.

Maybe I broke it with my tinkering. Hmm." He set it back down again, the wrong way around, so that the receiver with all the holes in it were facing upwards.

"Well, I'm going to continue with my nap," the surly portrait said.

Then there was a knock on the door. "Oh, for Goodness's Sake!" the portrait exclaimed.

"Come in," Dumbledore called.

Into the small circular room swept a tight-lipped and hawk-eyed McGonagall. "Hello, Professor," Dumbledore said politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sorry to bother you, Professor Dumbledore, but I am very worried about the welfare of this school – especially Defence Against the Dark Arts under the classes of _Professor_ Umbridge."

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Oh, yes. I grow more and more worried by the day about my students.

I only agree with her in the fact that, for now, nothing does want to attack 'little children' in Hogwarts. For a short time longer, we will be safe, Minerva."

Then the telephone rung again. "My Goodness!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed loudly over the ringing. " _What is that noise?!"_

"It's a telephone, Professor, a muggle device used to speak to people over long distances. The Death Eaters should have brought one."

"Are they usually that _loud!?"_

"Well, no – I just thought I would be too deaf to hear it as it was, so I cast the sonorous charm on it's ring – Hello? Professor Umbridge? What? Really?" Dumbledore said, upside down, into the phone.

"Locked in your office with a fire-breathing rhinoceros? That isn't very good.

I beg your pardon, there was a bit of a crash then – How did you get my number?

Oh, yes – Hagrid does let a lot of things slip, followed by 'I weren't supposed to tell ye that.'

Wait – he told everyone at breakfast this morning? Oh no! Now everybody knows my number!

Well, I'll send help along in a minute or two. Probably the nearest first year I can find, or Harry Potter. Alright. Good bye!"

He set down the phone. "Crumbs. Everyone in the school has my phone number."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Soon I'll have calls from all the students, complaining about Umbridge, who, incidentally, is locked in her office with a fire-breathing rhinoceros… I'll need to do something about that. And purchase some sticky tape to put over Hagrid's mouth whenever we tell him something important. Hmm, I have a very busy job…"

The phone rung ridiculously loudly again: all the portraits groaned and put their fingers in their ears.

"Are you sure you can't turn it down?!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed exasperatedly.

"I don't think that's even possible anymore," Dumbledore said doubtfully, picking it up.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore speaking. Can I help you?

…Yes, yes, I know Professor Umbridge isn't particularly understanding… never lets you do magic… tried to hang you by the ankles in Filtch's office… and nearly jinxed your ears off. Wait, nearly jinxed your ears off? That's a new one on me.

Currently, the Professor is locked in her office with a fire-breathing rhinoceros. Did you do that? No?

Your complaints have been registered, but for now you must strive through it in a real Hogwartian fashion. Good bye."

"Who was it?" McGonagall asked.

"Fred Weasley. Wants to leave Umbridge in her office with that fire-breathing rhinoceros, understandably…"

The ear-splitting ring broke the peaceful silence again. "Oh dear!

'Hello? Who is this? Oh, hello Harry. Is it important, or do I have time to ask you any impertinent personal questions?

'Umbridge is making you cut your arm open? Hermione persuaded you to call? Well, right now the professor's locked… You know? Well, I have to do something about it, Harry, or the Daily Prophet will say I killed her on purpose or something… Your complaints have been registered, but for now you must strive through it bravely as I know you can. Good bye!"

Dumbledore put down the phone. Immediately it rang again.

"Hello? This is professor… You know? I see. Currently the… Oh, you know that too. And about Harry's lessons, Serverous, you really must begin soon… And… You gave me your word, so you've got to do it, no pressure. And again you know what I was about to say! You really are the best at mind-reading… sorry… _legilimency,_ Serverous. Good bye."

Even in his hand, it rung again – all the portraits outburst with complaints and McGonagall finally resigned herself t putting her hands over her ears.

"I WILL NOT BE SPEAKING TO ANYMORE STUDENTS – CALM? – I AM CALM, I AM JUST AS CALM AS I WAS WHEN HARRY POTTER DIDN'T PUT HIS NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE –

Wait… _Tom Riddle?"_ All the portraits gasped.

" _You_ , using a telephone? Ah, your defence is that I am also using a telephone. I was never afraid to use the muggle devices, Tom… The Death Eaters set a fire-breathing rhinoceros on the school hoping it would kill me?

Currently, the rhinoceros is eating my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher… I didn't think you were in a fit state to use a telephone anyway, after coming back without even a nose… or ears, I didn't even think you had ears… I suppose you murdered Pettigrew for that? Lucky for him.

Well, your complaints have been registered. Good bye."

Dumbledore put down the phone and sighed. "No wonder muggle children have no time these days, if they sit around all day using one of these, or even one of those new-fangled computers to read silly stories that make absolutely no sense. I think I might be better off without it."

(All the portraits nodded numbly).

"As for our school, Minerva, it seems all the 'little children' are safe - it's only the 'large old ladies' we need to worry about. Now, I'll go and do something about the fire-breathing rhinoceros."

"But Professor" – said McGonagall.

"Your complaint has been registered, Professor," Dumbledore said as he stood up with a smile.

"Good bye."


End file.
